


Detours To You

by Tsumeggii



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: First time writing, Fluff, M/M, gays getting lost, please ship kyuten with me, tenma: the gay panic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26319466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsumeggii/pseuds/Tsumeggii
Summary: Tenma comes a long way from both realizing his feelings and getting to the baseball stadium.
Relationships: Hyoudou Kumon & Sumeragi Tenma, Hyoudou Kumon/Sumeragi Tenma
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	Detours To You

**Author's Note:**

> Tw: mentions of crime and bodily harm but tenma doesn’t act upon it 
> 
> they may be a little bit OOC im so sorry

There’s a lot of perks that come with being a professional actor. 

One, would be the agency provided flights— first class and sheek, money dripping down as he walks the carpeted floor of the flying vehicle. Second, would be the constant work invite that has him flying. Sure it's tiring but he'd do anything to escape math class. Third, would be income. Money isn’t really a big thing for him with the way it comes in loads like literal waves offers after offers. It’s dispensable. 

That is until coming to Mankai and realizing what a fucking _privilege_ it was to be rich. 

He still thinks back to Tsuzuru nearly breaking down into tears as he reviews his recent paycheck. (“XXX dollars? Are you kidding me? I could sell my liver and it’ll still be half your income” the scriptwriter cries. Maybe so does Tenma, albeit inside.)

However pros always do come with cons and one of the biggest cons with being a professional actor is the avid lack of sense for personal space the media has. It’s not strange to hear baseless rumours or listless info gathered by die hard prying fans. With the way cameras are constantly trained onto them, entertainers are expected to showcase only the most perfect side of themselves. That’s why even the most mundane things like favorite lip gloss or snack choices are devoured by fans who are so eager to know more about their beloved idol. Really, Tenma could sit down inside a random off chain diner and still make it to the front page news outlet: _5 Star Reviews From the 5 Star Theater Wonderboy_. (“Didn’t we tell you to not advertise without warranting a contract?” Igawa groans. “I just wanted a cheeseburger!”)

It's a few hundred degrees too hot out when Tenma runs into the paparazzi. For all his poor sense of direction you'd think he wouldn't notice but no, he does. It's like a sixth sense for him, awareness of a small structured device trained at his face like a sniper ready to off his social life. He's used to it, with the recent flood of invitations sent out to him after his first successful international role in " _You make me vomit_ "— a white teenage drama with the spice of comedy and asian representation, it would make sense that he's being followed more so than he was before. 

It's as if the world has gotten a taste of Sumeragi Tenma and they're latching onto every little quirk the sample has. 

Normally he'd ignore them, maybe even stare directly into the cameras to scare them off but now, nothing, almost nothing is stopping him from wanting to punt the little gremlin hiding in the branches of the big mahogany tree next to him. How the fuck do they even get themselves up there?

A hand pokes him in the cheek.

"...Tenma-san? Are you okay?" Kumon asks from beside and Tenma forgets, _goddammit today was supposed to be a date._

For all the brave false confidence Tenma has built around him and his acting centered ego, it’s the first that his walls have so easily crumbled for a person. Well, maybe it’s been worn down from the fact that the summer troupe has gained a small spot in his heart. Don’t get him wrong though, it’s a tiny, barely visible summer troupe shaped hole. (Misumi would argue that no, Tenma is in fact, _whipped_ for the troupe that he leads.) However, if we were to talk about fond spots and whipped culture, absolutely nothing would compare to how enormously taken Tenma is about Hyodo Kumon. 

As fast as it came, Tenma swipes the glare printed on his face in favor of clicking his tongue. Kumon raises a brow. 

“Nah. It's nothing. I just thought I saw something,” He answers, peering over at the mahogany tree in what he thinks is a sly movement. Except it’s not, and so Kumon follows his line of sight and whistles, “Oh, you’re being followed.”

Tenma shakes his head, used to it, “they’ll go away.” Or so he hopes. 

They really don’t. After being trailed for what seemed like the past three hours Tenma is almost ready to commit body harm and crime when Kumon’s face lights up after a resounding lime notification and suddenly yeah— yeah, okay maybe he is kinda whipped for this kid. 

“Tenma-san! Muku and Kazu-san are already at the Stadium!” He buzzes with excitement and Tenma groans inwardly. Honestly, how cute could he be. Kumon tugs at his sleeve, crowding in his space as he raises his phone to show him a picture of Kazunari decked in his hideous polka dotted button down and bright blue coat peace signing in the stadium’s crappy bright lighting. Kumon coos and Tenma grimaces, of course Kazunari would take a selfie like that. 

“How long till we get there Tenma-san?” The excitable boy asks as he quickly snaps his own selfie with Tenma’s haggard ass in the background. “Oi, delete that picture,” Tenma complains as he stuffs his hair underneath his cap. 

Kumon whines. “But you look okay! See? Still handsome!” 

Tenma thinks he’s about to get a conniption, with the way compliments roll easily off Kumon’s tongue. How does he do that? He doesn’t know. Tenma’s already been dubbed as _'highly protective of his chastity'_ by Taichi to which Tenma would argue that no, he is in fact, not a prude. Taichi counters that they're not the same thing but who cares about what Taichi has to say. 

On the other note, how fucking fast was the commute Kazunari and the others were taking because _goddamn_. They’ve been walking for two hours now and they’ve just arrived at the train station. They're not lost, no, Kumon made sure they were both steering into the correct direction. Maybe he was purposefully taking his time to drag out Kumon's solo attention on him. Nobody had to know. He shuffles in his spot, opening the brochure turned map in his hands as he looks at the pinned station directions in front of him. He feels the presence before he sees it and Tenma is very ready to ascend to the celestial realm when Kumon hooks his chin over Tenma’s shoulders to see the pamphlet in his hands. 

“Ah, so we’ve got three stations down and then we can walk all the way to Koushien!” He cheerily says, with a hand placing itself on Tenma’s other shoulder and the other winding under his elbow to trace the tracks they were said to follow. Tenma’s brain glitches and instead of focusing on Kumon’s words, the only thing that rings in his head is the rapid _ohmygodkumonyourhandletmeholditpleasestop_ — then Kumon steps back with a self satisfied smile and Tenma is pulled back to the current plane of existence. Tenma’s brain builds itself back to its regular programming and he stuffs those thoughts at the very bottom of his huge duffle bag.

He doesn’t really know when this fondness started solidifying for the newest member of their troupe. He thinks back to those times when he crawled out of his room at 2 am to grab a drink only to find Kumon seated on the courtyard bench, aggressively going over his play lines. Tenma would argue that yes, as a leader it was his duty to look over everyone's progress and their strengths and weaknesses. But the summer troupe excluding Kumon would shoot back that no mankai leader would stay back until 11pm in the practice rooms after a whole day of film work just so he can go over some scene with their rookie for the sake of ‘practicing’. Tenma huffs to himself. 

_“You know, I still want to be able to go to Koshien.” Kumon mumbles as he juggles the baseball in his hands._

_“...why don’t you? You can still make it if you join the club again.” Tenma offers._

_Kumon looks up at the night sky, tucking a leg under his lap, “ I could but… maybe i’ll just be dragging everyone down again. It might also split time with the troupe...”_

_“But you love baseball don’t you?”_

_“Of course! It’s the second best thing I love, after nii-chan of course,”_

_Tenma laughs, “then I think that's enough incentive to go back to the baseball club.”_

Kumon from beside him is oblivious, busy scrolling through his timeline and chatting through lime with the other members. He’s decked in his official Tigger’s jersey, with his favourite number 9 printed at the back. He remembers that one time he asked about it but all he got was a sudden kanji lesson and he mourned at the sudden loss of neurons that night he learned about name idioms and calligraphy. However he was much thankful that hands were a thing. 

_"...I really don't understand the importance of this," Tenma grumbles, looking down on a blank parchment._

_"It doesn't need to be important, it's just fun!" Kumon exclaims scrambling from his seat._

_"I'm not even going to take callig— Kumon?!" A rough hand wraps itself around his, gripping his pen tightly as it leads his hands to make clumsy strokes._

At least he was able to hold hands with Kumon for a short while.

He thinks back again and maybe it was the attentiveness that got to him. With the way Kumon was the only summer troupe member who was unable to experience the major asshole that he was upon entering the company. He was only able to experience the Tenma who has grown into his role as a leader. But despite hearing the stories of how much pain and drag Tenma was to the troupe, it didn't deter him from treating his words as if they were the gospel. It's refreshing, validating to say the least, that Kumon turns to him for guidance. That now, he can finally be reliable to someone. Tenma is truly thankful for the fact that summer accepts him for who he is, acting experience and antisocial skills packed together. 

And Tenma is thankful that despite him being an absolute sore ass, his troupe always has his back. So when Tenma comes to a conclusion that he is in fact very taken by the rookie— he visits room 202 with all his threadbare confidence and sexuality crisis, they are more than welcomed to help him out. 

_“So TenTen likes Kumoppi, huh,” Kazunari leers and it takes all of Tenma’s etiquette classes to not lean back like a second grader against the cheese touch._

__

__

_“Yeah, and what if I do.”_

_Kazunari laughs, all bright and starry as Muku sits positively giddy next to him. “We’ll help you ask Kyu-chan out, Tenma-kun!” the young prince gleams, clutching his teddy bear close to his chest._

_“You’re fine with this Mukkun?” The youngest nods happily. “Tenma-kun would definitely do anything to sweep Kyu-chan off his feet!”_

_Tenma preens because he definitely would._

Now here he is, fast forward a few weeks from that night, confession plan set in action. 

The train isn’t that stuffed in contrast to what he would expect. Was Koushien not popular after all? He leans out of his seat to stare at the other nearly empty cable cars, a few businessmen and friends seated or standing glued to their phone or softly chatting. He’s about to relax, maybe close his eyes and catch a few minutes of shut eye when the rousing ‘click!’ of a camera shutter resounds in his ear. 

His blood starts to boil once more because my god were these people _relentless._

Tenma’s eyes shoot open like those sudden movie frames where the main character wakes up from the intense fortune telling dream and Kumon from beside him freezes. Was this it? Was this the scene where Tenma reveals to Kumon that he is in fact not only the theater boy wonder that he is but also the fifth son of the Lord of Flies from the 46th novel of _“One Biece: The next Shippuden”_? Kumon is convinced that the man is not entirely human. Only that he is, when he out of nowhere, stomps his foot in annoyance, head whipping to the paparazzi who thinks they’re being sly, seated and tucked from the child actor’s peripheral view. 

He half expects the paparazzi to shriek, turn around and maybe start to think of names to replace their current one as they think of an escape route because Kumon knows that Tenma’s anger is not to be joked about. Sure he explodes almost daily like a short tempered volcano, puffing up every single second of the day (most especially in close quarters with one sharp tongued green haired seamstress) but it’s rare that Tenma ever shows anger of the _angry_ kind. Not the _‘I-am-a-tsundere’_ anger he displays everyday, no, Tenma rarely gets mad, _livid_.

Fueled by annoyance, spite, and the 200 yen worth monster energy drink he downed right before hiking onto this trip, Tenma glares with the force of an exuberant hail storm looking like that one clip from One Biece where Nabuto summon his chakra to end his enemy once and for all. The paparazzi should be scared, only that instead of cowering away they have the audacity to smile at Tenma as if they were taking his class picture before raising the camera to their face and taking another clear shot of his haggard jetlagged look. Then and there Tenma’s urges to commit bodily harm and crime comes back in full force. 

As if sensing the sudden spike of bloodlust from his friend, Kumon jumps into action. Which by all means is a really, really sweet thing to do, however when Kumon decides that the best plan was to pull Tenma close to his chest— Tenma's head pressed right against where he can hear Kumon's rapid heartbeat— as if he were using himself as a shield for the other boy, Tenma thinks _‘wow, the press is going to love this’_. 

As if one shutter sound wasn’t enough, the paparazzi continues to take multitude of photos from every angle of this boys love story scene the two troupe members were making. Kumon, of course, is completely unabashed, shamelessly calling out the paparazzi. “Hey! We’re on a private schedule right now! It’s unauthorized to take Tenma-san’s pictures!” He says in what should be the sweetest call to action. Only that it really isn’t as the words ring in the train cable catching the attention of the group of friends seated not too far from them. 

Belatedly, Tenma thinks it’s nice to be held in Kumon’s arms like this, and he would love to stay enclosed in the other’s warmth. Many nights he's dwelled on allowing himself to just sink in the other's warmth, bask in his hold and not have to put up his stingy front whenever the other decides to get a tad bit too handsy. But as the sudden thundering echo of footsteps multiply along with the copious amount of teenage girls shrieking, Tenma is forced to think that maybe Kumon is a tad bit more smooth-brained than he is. 

“This way! C’mon!” Kumon yells as he pulls Tenma down another crossroad. 

“Do you even know where we are going?” He yells back, legs burning as he tries to catch up.

“No time to think, just run!”

The heat hits differently now as they run themselves ragged across the complex streetways of Osaka. Kumon speeds through small curbs, jumping over pipelines like some kind of Ten10 superhero and Tenma thinks that his shoulders look damn well good in this angle. It’s expected of Kumon to be athletic after all being related to Juza and Muku already gives him enough aptitude but Tenma likes to think that their athletic capabilities are not too far off. After all they’ve played as the lead pair in a baseball starred play. Now that the both of them have crossed what had to be the sixth street within ten minutes, Tenma is starting to think otherwise. 

“Kumon! Slow down!” He gasps, clutching the straps of his duffle as sweat starts to rapidly gather under the strap of his hat. 

Kumon doesn’t listen. Instead he reaches out his hand for Tenma to take as if they were a straight couple having gone through a vacation in the plain lands of nowhere. His purple hair whips through the air as they zoom through another curb, lime eyes glinting in delight and the smile on his face is something models would kill to have. It was also a smile Tenma would kill to see over, and over again. 

_Cute_ , Tenma thinks. _Gay_ , a voice dangerously similar to Yuki’s echoes back in his head. 

Kumon laughs, catching Tenma’s hand in his as he starts to run even faster, “C’mon Tenma-san!” 

He blames the heat on his cheeks to the sun.

Really, how was Tenma going to deny this kid anything. He does as told, pushing past his limits, gripping Kumon’s hand tightly in his as they zoom towards alleyways. It’s like a little escapade of their own, he thinks, squeezing the hand in his. 

“I… I think we’ve lost them,” Kumon pants, heaving over the roadside as he clutches his stomach. Tenma isn’t in any shape better, sprawled down the foot of the traffic barriers, two breaths away from expelling his lunch out. 

After thirty minutes of what could be the most terrifying version of mouse and cat, Tenma thinks he should up his workout regime and focus on stamina better. His fans were relentless, chasing after the duo even after they’ve crossed the same circle fountain park twice. Tenma fears he’s never going to be able to ride trains with ease. They boys find themselves stopping clear at a deserted road, no travel signs or life present within the next three kilometers. 

“Yeah, I think we lost them,” Kumon assures as he steps on the edge of the road. He sounds confident, wearing a face of relief as he checks again. The look doesn’t last long, the cheeky smile fading into something more daunting and Tenma starts to feel his soul leave his body. 

Kumon grins at him sheepishly and while Tenma would love to bask in all the little quirks Kumon displays, now isn’t the ideal time to look like you just entered a math final without knowing how to remotely add to the thousands. 

“We lost them but uhm, ...I think we’re lost too.”

This day could not get any better. 

He’s about to pound his head on the sidewalks when the feeling of fear shoots up his chest. “Kumon! The game! What time is it?” He panics, sweaty hands fumbling for his phone. 

“Oh! Uhm, we got… er, we got ten minutes… 'till the game starts” Kumon mourns and Tenma has half the mind to control his sanity. Today was supposed to be a good day! He planned this out so well, even asked to stay back with Kumon for a few hours so he could get his well deserved alone time with his rookie. The universe didn’t even have to do him this dirty. This was a game Kumon always wanted to watch, with how much he rapped to the troupe about the current standings of his favourite baseball teams. Tenma even bought them all tickets, their flights and even begged on his knees for the Director and Sakyo to let them have their own troupe manned vacation. 

This was supposed to be his big chance to impress the younger and make him fall for him like how the second would for the main lead! This was his chance to make Kumon fall for him— the mighty Tenma Sumeragi, bonsai lover and avid carrot hater. And now the day is ruined. 

It’s not until he sees Kumon, looking at him slacked jawed and face red, that he realizes he’s said all those thoughts out loud. He heats up, mortified that he’s practically confessed his feelings to his crush in the most unromantic and uncool way possible. Tenma is so ready to shove his foot in his mouth. 

“Tenma-san…”

“Kumon!” He shoots up from where he’s situated, panicked hands gripping the younger boys shoulder tightly, “The game! We should call the others and-”

“Tenma-san,”

“And see if one of them can pick us up! We won’t make it in time but-”

“Tenma-san,”

“That's better than not being able to-”

“Tenma-san!” The younger boy all but screams, slapping both his hands not too gently on Tenma’s cheeks, stopping him from his gay induced word vomit. The blaring in Tenma’s head stops, white noise fading in favor of tuning to the soft timbre of Kumon’s voice. His glassy eyes clear and he finds Kumon’s bright lime eyes fixated on him and he fears that the other will see through years worth of hopeless, unhelpful pining. 

Kumon smiles and Tenma can faintly hear the gates of heaven open, bright blue sky framing the soft pink dusted on his cheeks. Kumon looks absolutely gorgeous. And when the boy laughs, Tenma is positive that god has let go of one of his angels. 

“You don’t have to panic Tenma-san!” He tells the other, “the day isn’t over yet and we can always watch the next match!” The smile doesn’t fade, but it does tune out into something softer. 

He’s seen this, not a lot but it’s rare. It’s the small smile Kumon shows at their accidental 2 am meets out in the courtyard, swapping stories about highschool, baseball, acting, and family. It’s private, a little secretive than the usual brightness he displays. 

_“As expected, Tenma-san is really cool,” Kumon mutters, exuberance gone in favor of gentleness as he closes their script booklet._

_“Why do you say so?”_

_“Tenma-san is still tried even if he was afraid of the stage. I think that’s a pretty cool thing to achieve."_

“... but… Tiggers… and we’re in the middle of nowhere too!” He sputters, pulling back to search for anything that might lead them back to civilization. Yet despite all that, Kumon laughs, loud and bright much like the sun that he is. Kumon’s arms wrap around him, bring them both together again. “If being lost means I get to be with you, then it’s fine.” Kumon says, eyes glinting. 

“Tenma-san likes me?” He teases, stepping closer to Tenma. The tone in his voice makes Tenma want to crawl into a hole or jump off of a cliff, it’s like he’s being dragged out by his hair and Tenma wants nothing more than to shave himself bald. But it’s sweet, the timbre of his voice melting into something softer, maybe this was just a Kumon based bias. 

The teasing fades, and the smile on Kumon’s face widens once more, “Good… because I like Tenma-san too.” 

“So you both got chased by girls?”

“No, not really. There were some dudes in there too!” Kumon chirps.

Yuki deadpans. “There were dudes there- do I give a damn about that?! Why were you even found out?! Did your carrot brain forget to wear your sunglasses again?” He seethes and it’s an almost hilarious sight at how Yuki looks like he’s about to commit second degree manslaughter decked in his yellow sunflower printed sundress and yellow embroidered beret. 

Tenma could honestly give anything less of a fuck as Kumon sheepishly flinches, squeezing his hand held tightly in his. From behind the raging middle schooler, Kazunari winks while Muku gives him a supportive thumbs up. Misumi smiles, like the knowing older brother that he is. 

Kumon wails, asking Yuki for forgiveness. But the lingering feeling of Kumon's lips on his from a while back is still seared into his brain. 

Yeah okay, so maybe Tenma is in fact whipped, there’s nothing wrong with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Reader!! It's my first time ever publishing a fic so I hope you like this!! My @tsumeggii on twitter if you ever want to scream about kyuten/tenkyu with me <3 Again I hope you enjoyed the fic <3 Thanks to cris, trice, and ryu for cheering me on with this <333 i love you all mwah


End file.
